Little Doubt

by Little Doubt (epub)

  His dad’s lawyer had argued last night that there wasn’t enough evidence to charge him for any crime, and they’d have to release him today. Jordan simply could not remember what had happened. All he recalled was Liam pulling at him, and crawling away from Adam’s body.

  ‘They’ll have to prove that you put the blade into him, and with Liam Brook confessing that he did it, they’ll have a hard time forming a case.’

  ‘I wish I had done it,’ he’d said.

  ‘Jordan!’ His father had broken down.

  ‘There’s no shame here, Jordan. Any jury will be sympathetic to the strain you’ve been under, and it’s been a very public strain.’

  ‘I wanted to kill him. He confessed to killing my mother.’

  ‘Think about Millie when you say that.’

  Jordan could have reached out and strangled his father for using brazen blackmail, but it worked. The death of Adam Cotton was redemption; further torturing Millie would be utterly selfish and unnecessary. He had no care for his own skin: he would let the law decide.

  The lawyer explained that the Crown would have to prove beyond reasonable doubt that he was in sound mind after the brutal murder of his mother and had planned the execution for some time. ‘Brook’s confession provides reasonable doubt, as well as your memory loss due to PTSD.’

  ‘But I’d brought two knives along; doesn’t that look a bit suspicious?’

  ‘You were alone and confused, and bravado fed your desperate need for attention after the loss of your mother.’

  It was bullshit, but Jordan could see where the lawyer was going with it.

  ‘Adam Cotton was a lowlife murderer and drug dealer, while you’re a high-achieving, law-abiding boy who lost his mother, in a very public manner, four days ago.’

  ‘And that makes it OK?’

  ‘This is about not further splintering your family when it has been through enough. If you were charged – and I doubt you will be, because the CPS tends to stay clear when there is reasonable doubt – no juror would want to feel responsible for putting you away when another Adam Cotton somewhere else could randomly stab an innocent woman to death.’

  ‘What about Jason?’

  ‘He’s broken under interrogation and confessed to the other murder, saying that Adam was instructed to kill a second woman to draw attention away from the real target: Keira Bradley.’

  Thomas winced and hung his head. The lawyer put his hand on his shoulder.

  ‘I’m sorry, Tom.’

  ‘Mum was collateral damage,’ said Jordan.

  ‘Jason is looking at life for murder. As is Adam Cotton’s accomplice.’

  Thomas had been shown photos of the second man responsible for his wife’s murder and he was merely a boy. It was heartbreaking. His defence was that he was high on ketamine at the time.

  ‘It turns out that the Beacon Estate has been in the pocket of a high-ranking police officer, who, incidentally, was stabbed to death in his own home yesterday.

  Thomas raised his brow and wondered if Neil Ormond knew who it was. ‘It looks like Ella exposed something rotten and left us all a legacy.’ The lawyer patted Thomas on the back; he was an old friend and they went back years.

  Thomas nodded: it was a bitter recompense.

  ‘Did you pay the reward, Dad?’

  ‘No one came forward, and it was DI Porter who cracked the case in the end, with dogged attention to detail. But I’ve got an idea what to do with the money.’

  ‘I think you should keep it to yourself, Tom,’ said the lawyer.

  ‘I disagree. That estate pulled together, and Sharon Bradley got people to do what they would never normally do, for her daughter and for Ella.’

  Jordan put his head in his hands and began to sob, deep, heavy grunts. Thomas went around the table and took his son in his arms until he was spent.

  ‘I understand why you wanted to do it, son.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’

  ‘No. Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault.’

  Chapter 60

  One month later

  A cheer went up as Kelly carried the fifteen-pound turkey to the table. They were all gathered in her house, and the fire roared.

  Kelly’s Christmas gift to Josie was being put to good use as they pitted their wits against Thomas and Millie. It was a board game called Talisman, which challenged players to a titanic battle of magic and evil, set against an epic journey to the inner kingdom, where one player would take the Tower of Command and rule over all others. They’d been playing for three hours and still hadn’t got close to the ultimate prize. The table had been set up buffet style to cater for so many people.

  Kate had popped in with some bubbly, and Rob and Mia showed off their new baby. He was passed around like a parcel, and enjoyed the attention from June and Amber. June had supplied six boxes of her beautiful chocolates for the spread. Kelly couldn’t help but notice how tired and harassed Mia looked, as if she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep. Rob told her it was incessant.

  Ted was able to walk now and refused to use the wheelchair provided by the hospital. Further checks were required on his left eye, and for now, he was unable to work. He took a bow in his apron and was grateful to be kept busy helping Kelly with the food.

  Kelly had felt off colour for some time now, and was trying to shake a virus, picked up no doubt after the stress of the corruption inquiry. Her fears that she’d be shut off from the investigation were unfounded. She’d been regularly updated once her team had been indisputably cleared. USBs recovered from Ormond’s property revealed that remnants of Tombday’s wealth still languished in the Isle of Man, and he had been siphoning off chunks of it. Video footage had also been seized recording boys being abused by men associated with the racket. Identification would likely never be made, given that the material appeared to be twenty years old. Despite a thorough investigation into Ormond’s murder, the case remained unsolved, to the desperate anguish of his family.

  Sharon walked around with a bottle of sherry and topped up glasses, humming Christmas songs to herself and blowing the odd party trumpet, popped out of crackers bought at the market in Penrith. Occasionally she’d sneak up behind whoever held the baby and peer around, surprising him with a silly face.

  Kelly went back into the kitchen with Ted and counted out the cutlery. Johnny was showing Jackson how to make lump-free gravy: a speciality of his, and a skill that would come in handy when the new Hub opened in early Spring.

  The Ella Watson and Keira Bradley Foundation was to launch on the site of the old barricade on the Beacon Estate, and would welcome the whole community. It had received funding to offer educational and vocational courses, and would have a permanent member of staff giving advice on social and financial matters; but most importantly of all, it would be somewhere for people to go who felt disconnected from their community. The launch would celebrate the knife amnesty organised by Jackson, which had yielded one hundred and twenty-three weapons in a week. Hot and cold food would be available, as well as sports and games. The foundation would be run by Sharon Bradley and Jackson Akers, with Thomas Watson in charge of the finances.

  Thomas’s two hundred thousand pounds was funding the building, but he was also paying for a brand-new music suite with a recording studio after finding out about Jackson’s talent. Until it was ready, Thomas had arranged for Jackson to record his music in a suite in Kendal, and his first track was available on YouTube and currently climbing the charts. His artist name was Gunz. KSI’s agent had expressed an interest in working with him. The Hub was to be officially opened by two Coronation Street stars.

  Kelly glanced around her home and noticed that Jordan had gone out onto the terrace. She slipped out to join him. The food was almost ready.

  ‘Hey. You OK?’ she asked.

  He nodded. ‘I’m just thinking about Mum.’ He was staring at the hills.

  ‘She liked to run up there?’

  He nodded again. ‘Sh
e’d have been really happy today. She loved doing things like this.’

  Kelly leant on the fence next to him and gazed up at the hills where she loved to run too.

  ‘Lunch is nearly ready.’ She touched his back tenderly and walked back inside.

  Under juvenile court, with no previous, and mitigating circumstances, a judge had ruled that Jordan had to wear a tag for six months. Liam Brook was facing trial for manslaughter, and had been released on bail.

  Kelly missed Will. The investigation into Ormond hadn’t unearthed any links back to serving personnel, only code names. But Will had decided to take a secondment to Lyon, France, to work with Interpol. Before he’d gone, she’d given him an old VHS tape. It was the only time she’d ever taken physical evidence for her own purposes. But she was sure. When you worked with someone every day for three years, and you knew the way they moved, the way they stared and the way they sat still, it never left you. She knew that one of the boys on the tape was him. That was the hold that Ormond had had over him.

  Ted announced that they were almost ready. The table groaned under the weight of the food. Kelly sat down in front of the fire. She didn’t much fancy eating, and even the glass of red she cradled wasn’t going down well. She knew she could easily be forgiven for being a little off, given that last year, Wendy had gone into a seizure on this very sofa and never left hospital.

  But she knew that wasn’t the whole story.

  This morning, she’d gone to find Johnny on the terrace, her face as white as the snow covering the distant mountains, and given him a small plastic stick. On it, inside a window, was a little blue cross.

  ‘I’m pregnant,’ she’d said.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank the following people for their continued support of the Kelly Porter series.

  At Canelo, Louise, Fran and the whole team; your energy and passion for the series is fantastic. From the first manuscript to the final edit, you’re with me every step.

  To my agent, Peter Buckman, for your advice, patience and faith.

  To my children, Tilly and Freddie, who straightened out my street language to their exacting standards, and to their friends, who helped with the lyrics.

  Calm.

  Thank you to Dave Part, my old friend, who first flagged up the shocking young offending statistics to me. I hope Barb approves x

  To the lemons, limes and pips for endless conversations about murder. Billy, I will not make you a deranged killer…

  And Mike, my biggest supporter and the person who picks me up and dusts me off… I love you.

  Finally, I want to dedicate this book to all the young people who have senselessly died as a result of knife crime. It should not be happening.

  Detective Kelly Porter

  When a scandal forces DI Kelly Porter out of the Met, she returns to her home turf in the north. There, a dark criminal underworld lies beneath the veneer of sleepy towns and lush landscapes, and Porter and her team soon find themselves facing the Lake District’s darkest secrets and greatest threats…

  Dark Game

  Deep Fear

  Dead End

  Bitter Edge

  Bold Lies

  Blood Rites

  Little Doubt

  Find out more

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by Canelo

  Canelo Digital Publishing Limited

  Third Floor, 20 Mortimer Street

  London W1T 3JW

  United Kingdom

  Copyright © Rachel Lynch, 2020

  The moral right of Rachel Lynch to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781788637565

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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